


Nothingness

by zzzett



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Metaphysics, Post-Episode: s12e03 The Foundry, Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8446168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzett/pseuds/zzzett
Summary: Mary has left and Dean is struggling. The Darkness hears the call.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Song Creations Challenge October 2016 on tumblr.
> 
> Prompt: How Can I Love When I'm Afraid To Fall? (https://play.spotify.com/user/adoringjensen/playlist/5IOnwxG7hLO2oGlAuXYVPB)

Dean stood there for a long moment after she left. He distantly heard Sam stuttering, looking for comforting words they both knew wouldn’t work. Finally, he saved his little brother the trouble and dragged himself off to his room without a word or a glance.

He never came out again for the day. At night Sam knocked on his door worriedly, and he muttered to him he was alive. Don’t ask for anything else. Not now. Sam understood, and left for now with a broken wish of good night.

He sat frozen on his bed, staring at the wall until his back hurt and his eyes burned and he didn’t care. Mom- Mary- A ghost stared at him from the photo on his bedside, but he didn’t dare meet her gaze for he knew in a deep, molecular level that that moment would be his deconstruction and no angel would be able to build him back up.

Her return was a gift and he’d been so, so grateful. He hadn’t asked for his foundations to be crushed, had never thought the being he trusted most to stay would abandon him- no, he should be mature here, he should understand, Mary still loved her sons- Mom left willingly- no, Mary was struggling and it was okay- Mom _left me and I can’t_ -

“I’m sorry.”

Dean jumped at the velvety voice he hadn’t heard for weeks, but what he felt at the sight of its owner was, strangely, anything but discomfort. “Amara..?”

She looked better than the last time, in a way; stronger, more beautiful somehow, her dress the blackest black that verged on nothingness, the infinite abyss. Dean would have been scared to stare but the Darkness was a welcome presence at the moment, filling his room with a sense of warmth and safety that resembled the womb ever denied to him.

Amara’s sorrowful face suddenly reflected astonishment. “You’re crying…” 

Only then did Dean become aware of the single tear making its way down his cheek. As she walked up to him in concern, he felt shame rise in his gut, yet the gentle hand that rose to his face silenced it. The touch was familiar now, but unlike the previous times, it wasn’t intrusive or unwelcome. He had to admit that this -she- felt rather nice in this moment, felt like what he needed.

He couldn’t help but close his eyes and sigh in relief. 

Amara too let out a little hum at the connection they still shared, this feeling of completeness similar to what she felt near her brother, yet different in ways still alien to her. She waited for Dean to re-open his eyes, to gaze into his suffering soul. “This is my fault,” she lamented, brushing his tear with her thumb. “I can feel you crumbling inside… I thought I gave you what you needed most but-”

“You did,” he muttered, his green gaze still moist as he stared into her merciful soft brown. “When I saw mom that night… It was beyond words. You granted my biggest wish while I’m still alive.” He smiled mournfully. “Thank you for that.” 

Amara’s eyes widened at the sentiment she wasn’t used to receive from him, the hand on his cheek slipping down to his collar. She didn’t want to stop touching him, not when his soul felt so broken that it echoed in her being, calling to her… Needing her.

“But she left and she hurt you… I hurt you. Why thank me for that?”

Dean looked down and inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself together. If not for himself, for her; he was always better at comforting than being comforted. “She’ll return,” he said firmly so he could believe it too. “She’s human and she needs time.” Sam was right; mom was not a thing. Technically, Dean understood. As an adult, he understood. 

It was his four-year-old self that was the problem.

“She’ll come back home.” He had to believe it, had to believe, so he met Amara’s eyes and smiled again, but she was all blurry and his cheeks were soaking-

“Oh, Dean…”

Then he was engulfed in her arms- literally engulfed inside and out by the warm, safe Darkness, ominous and infinite, where he felt he could hide and not be strong for now, where he felt naked and weightless…

_It’s okay._

He still had to have been in his room, hugging the physical form of Amara, but on the metaphysical plane where the immortal and formless dwelled, he felt himself floating as a wavelength. The Darkness was around and within him, covering and protecting him here. Only her voice echoed here.

_You’re safe with me, in me. You’re a part of me, where nothing else exists._

Nothing else, no one but him… No little brother to see him weak, no creature to judge and mock him. No masks and no boundaries; just the silent, safe, vast emptiness.

So he screamed and shook and cried where even he couldn’t hear himself. The Darkness tightened around him, held him in the void for as long as he needed to hide and be raw, to be more himself than he had ever been…

It lasted forever, yet just a minute where they stood embracing in his room, quiet- and Dean slowly realized he didn’t need to fear the nothing she personified anymore. He didn’t need to fear falling -he’d never needed to fear falling- as long as she was there.

“Stay,” he whispered into her shoulder.

_Just a little longer_ sobbed in the Darkness.

Amara stroked the back of his head. “I will,” she whispered in his ear.

_As long as you wish_ it echoed back.


End file.
